


Memories Of A Different Life

by knitekat



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Fix-It, Gen, Introspection, Memories, Negative Thoughts, POV First Person, Spy Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knitekat/pseuds/knitekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester stands over Christine's grave and reflects back on their past and the ARC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reflection and Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Fififolle for the beta.

Christine Marie Johnson had been the bane of my life but... at one point, she had also been so much more than that for me. Which was the only reason I had for being here, walking towards her grave on a grey autumnal morning. The dampness of the air slowly saturated my suit, leaving my shirt clinging to my skin by the time I stood over her final resting place and I allowed my thoughts to wander. A smile flickered across my face as I considered what my people – and Christine's – would think of me standing here, but then again, as far as I knew, they didn't know I was here and I had no reason to inform them of my visit. It would raise too many questions, ones that I had no wish to answer, but which brought back memories of a different life. 

As I stared down at Christine's grave, I recalled how we had met as two young, wet-behind-the-ears agents, both keen to prove ourselves and eager to show how good we were. Blinded by glory and patriotism and stupidity, so sure we could make a difference to the world.

We had worked well together in training, forming a strong partnership, and our boss decided we should become a team once we graduated from the training program. We had also started a relationship, even if it was against regulations. One that I was fairly sure our boss had known about but had tacitly allowed, after all, it gave him a hold if either of us had stepped out of line. 

As I stood over the empty grave, my thoughts wandered back over my recent encounters with Christine, after so long an absence of her in my life. Indeed, until a few months ago I believed – hoped – that she was out of my life for good. The last I had heard on the grapevine was that she had been sent to Jamaica and I had known she had been exiled for one of her many sins. Not that I cared why she had been sent, I only breathed a sigh of relief that she was half a world away from me. I had promptly forgotten about her, too caught up in containing dinosaurs and keeping their presence a secret from the public. I should have known better, I should have remembered that it was a mistake to lose track of her. A mistake that had come back to bite me when I had read her name as the new military liaison for the ARC. I had been so shocked that I had to read her name several times to make sure that my eyes hadn't been playing tricks on me. I firmly believe it was the shock of seeing her again that allowed her to wrong foot me the first time we met after so many years, leaving me stuttering like a schoolboy in front of their first crush. It had been then that I realised I had been wilfully blind for many years and had the nasty, distasteful realisation that I still had feelings for her. Feelings I had known she would use mercilessly against me if she ever found out about them and the bitch had – even worse, she had taken the ARC from me. 

I smiled as I recalled the rush of pleasure I had felt when I had listened to the recording Becker had made. However, I just couldn't believe Christine could have made such an elementary error in talking about such things in an insecure location and to a man she knew had been loyal to me. It just didn't make sense to me and so I had hesitated for several long moments as I tried to figure out how she could have forgotten so much of the training drilled into our heads all those years ago. All I could think was that she believed Becker was only interested in promotion and how she could help him climb through the ranks. In the end, I had taken the risk and played it to the minister, it had felt so good to watch his face, knowing I was not the only one who had fallen for Christine's dubious charms. I really had hoped that would be the last I would ever hear from her, but she had bounced back to twist the minister around her little finger as she lead him around by his dick. Christine always had excelled in Honey Traps, which was a rather sobering thought when I thought about it. Had she ever truly loved me? 

I would never know the answer to that question, not that it looked as if I'd get my wish now... maybe. I knew Becker had reported that she'd been dragged through an anomaly – kicking and screaming – by a bloody future predator, but... I knew she'd survived tighter situations than that, after all, I'd been in several of them with her. I shook my head and knew that until I saw her bloodied and lifeless body for myself that I wouldn't truly believe she was really dead, and even then, I would still wonder. After encountering Helen Cutter and her bloody clones, I'd be a fool not to consider the possibility. 

It was an odd feeling to know, or at least suspect, that I'd never see Christine again, for she had been part of my life for so long. We had clashed when we had first met, both vying to be top of the class, and we had never really stopped fighting and competing over who was the best... even in bed. She had been a thorn in my side long before she'd tried to wrestle the ARC from me. I grimaced at that thought, my hand absently rubbing my side as I recalled that she had shot me once, I still bore the scar and it should have served as a reminder to never underestimate Christine. 

I sighed again as I looked down at Christine's empty grave and felt the conflicting emotions I felt for her churn inside me. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin, and as much as I had come to loathe Christine, that hadn't always been the case. 

Training had been an experience, I had learnt how to behave in various social situations, how to gamble – both to win and to lose convincingly – and a hundred other social mores at the same time I had been taught how to break-and-enter, how to hack computers and set explosives and a hundred different ways to kill – from using my bare hands to knives to guns to bad sushi. 

It was then, when I had been partnered with Christine and we had been cramming our courses, that we had started our relationship, one based on lust. No, that was a lie, for I was sure that I had loved Christine once – the love I had once felt for her was the only reason I could have felt drawn to come here, to stand over her grave, especially on such a miserable morning. I had slept with her, and while no one would ever call us friends, it had created a bond between us and we could almost anticipate what the other would do in a situation. 

I smiled, the sex had certainly been bloody good and... I smiled as I recalled how bloody amazing those interrogation techniques had felt when turned into games that, I had to admit, no sane person would ever consider playing and, truthfully, we only played them after especially trying missions. Even then, we were careful and knew exactly how much pressure to use in breath control and the like, but the thrill of danger had heightened every orgasm. It had been dangerous and could have had us sanctioned, but we hadn't cared as it had provided a release from all the tension and fear we felt but couldn't show. 

Not that the reason for our risky games mattered in the end, what did was that it had changed me in ways that scared me. I found myself craving the excitement and the risk of death, finding everything else lacking in some way and I was sure it affected Christine in the same way. We both courted death far too casually in those days and I was not so far gone that I hadn't realised I had to stop. 

Our split had been amicable on the whole, certainly separate postings – and I'm sure our boss had his hand in that, not willing for two of his best assets to clash – had probably helped as being on different continents made sneaking off for sex somewhat of a logistical nightmare. Oh, we could have done it and I will admit that the need to do so had been hard to resist after a particularly difficult operation, but I had been determined not to succumb to her charms once more. She was an addiction and like any addiction, she would end up killing me. Instead I fell into a pattern of anonymous one night stands, male or female, I didn't care, I just needed the touch of another human, no matter how briefly, to remind me that I was still one of them. 

I had to wonder, in those few moments I allowed myself to be introspective, whether being with Christine had ruined me for a normal relationship. My marriage had certainly faltered, although I had to admit that the lies I told about my work and the odd and unexplained absences and injuries certainly hadn't helped. I sometimes wondered if I had been running from the darkness of my life back then when I met my old girlfriend on one of my infrequent returns to London. We had managed several dates and the memories of more innocent times had, I believe, lulled me into a false sense of happiness when I asked her to marry me. I think – hope – that I had honestly wanted to settle down with the woman I believed I loved, but I soon realised I had made a terrible mistake. How could I be honest with her when my career involved all sorts of shady, if not black, operations and my hands were red with blood? Not that I had meant to lie to Sally, but not being able to share things with her led to the breakdown of our marriage. It had all been my fault, maybe if I had been honest – or at least, as honest as I could be – maybe we would still have been together and I could have been a proper father to my children. 

I sometimes think that I could – should – have tried harder and kept in touch with Sally and the boys, but I hadn't. No, at the time I had firmly believed that my life and my deeds had destroyed any chance I had at happiness and I knew I had not tried to save my marriage, believing that they would be better off without my in their lives. It was something I had come to regret, but I knew I could do nothing about it now, I had lost contact with my family and I doubted they would welcome me back into their lives. 

I sighed deeply. Even if my family had, by some miracle, wanted me back, I wasn't sure I would go. I might have walked away from my previous life but its soul-deep strain had never left me. How could it, when my hands were red with blood, of both the guilty and the innocent I had failed to save. I still woke in the night in a cold sweat, my heart hammering in my chest, and the memory of my last mission as clear as if it had just happened. So many innocents lost on my watch and I still remembered their screams. I was almost happier to dream of being hunted down by Leek's bloody predator, its claws digging into my flesh, its jaws closing in until I woke with its rank breath in my nostrils and its teeth ripping my face off. 

I shivered as my thoughts started to turn to that memory – of how I had failed to kill the man I had been sent to kill and innocent people had paid with their lives and their pain. I could still hear the tortured sound of metal twisting and tearing, of the screams of the maimed and injured. Oh, I could blame the shoddy intelligence and the fact that someone had betrayed us, but it had still been my fault. If only I had been faster, if only... I shook my head, madness lay that way. 

That mission changed me forever and I had returned home to England, injured and haunted by nightmares every night, my resignation – what a joke, I knew I couldn't resign – burning a hole in my pocket. Not that my boss had liked that, but he also hadn't pressed me to stay. No, he was much too canny for that and instead insisted that I took some time off, to rest and see my family. What family? My parents were long dead and my divorce had been finalised while I was away. I'd seen the solicitor's letter on my return, along with Sally's own, in which she clearly stated she and the boys wanted nothing more to do with me and for that I could not blame them. Even though I missed having the sanity of Sally and boys to come home to, missed the normality of a life I had never known, I had felt I was far too damaged by my work and I had no wish to taint them with my presence. They'd be better off if they forgot I ever existed, but it was hard to return home to an empty flat each night with only my thoughts and memories for company. 

Instead I spent my days fighting my recalcitrant body as I attempted to regain my fitness and complete the paperwork my boss so kindly dumped on me. I pushed myself harder than my doctors advised in the hope of falling into exhausted and dream-free sleep. It didn't work and I spent my nights sitting at home until the empty flat and my haunted thoughts drove me out first to drink and then to shag in a desperate attempt to drown out the screams that woke me in a cold sweat every night. It didn't help to know that my boss would call me in once I was fit and 'offer' me a new job, a new target to be eliminated.

Thus it hadn't come as a surprise when a few months later, when I was once more fit – at least physically – to be summoned to report in for my new role. What had surprised me was being told to report to the Home Office, not my normal line of work and I had to wonder what my boss was plotting. It turned out to be a little task to look into and deal with while I considered my future. I read the mission briefing very carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when I realised it was not a kill order. Even then, I knew I had little choice but to accept the job and do as I had been 'requested', it might not have been one of my usual tasks but I could spot my boss' hand and knew it had been instigated by him. It was clear to me that his highly paid psychiatrists had warned him that I was unstable and unfit for active duty, it was also clear to me that he had no intention of losing my valuable skill set. This job was merely to keep me busy and in his sphere of influence until I came to terms with my last mission. Even knowing it was a ploy, the thought of not being responsible for life and death decisions appealed to me and, after all, it had to be better than the bloody paperwork I was drowning in. 

I soon came to doubt the wisdom of my decision as I read the files I had been given. My eyebrow quirked in a mixture of disbelief and disdain as I read about dinosaurs and holes in time. What the hell was my boss playing at? I almost wondered if this was his idea of a joke, except, my boss was one of the most cheerless men I had ever encountered, it certainly wasn't his style. But still, joke or no joke, I knew I was stuck with my new task unless I agreed to return to active duty and I was not sure if I ever would be, the thought of pulling the trigger on another human left me shaking and sick. Of course, I had a few other options, I could make a run for it – I could probably survive for several years hiding from my boss but it would be no life and I knew he would have no compunction about using Sally and my boys against me – or I could really hand my notice in and hope whoever was assigned to kill me made it clean, or I could take my own life – quick, clean and painlessly. As I was not suicidal, none of those options appealed to me and so I saw no choice but to take on my new task. 

Re-reading the files I had been given, I even wondered if this project might be my redemption, a way to... not remove the blood from my hands but maybe, somehow, balance all the deaths I hadn't prevented against those lives I would be involved in saving from the menace of dinosaurs.

***

Of course, I had almost reconsidered accepting active service when I had discovered exactly who my so-called expert team was. I had been even more tempted to do so after I had met them, except I had woken the previous night in a sweat-soaked bed, shivering hard enough to rattle my teeth before I had almost fallen out of bed in my haste to throw up. The screams from my nightmare still echoed in my ears and I knew then that I had to make amends. I had to hope that my first impressions would be proven wrong... although I knew I wouldn't be that lucky and it had not taken long for my worst fears to be proven correct.

My second-in-command, one Oliver Leek, was just the sort of man who had all my instincts screaming not to trust him, he reminded me of far too many men I had met in my previous career – men who would sell their own mothers if it would benefit them. Not that my explorations of Leek's files or records had revealed anything useful to me and... well, it was difficult to do too much digging when one wasn't following procedure in the first place. I had considered an illegal wiretap... but that would probably have got back to my boss and, well, I had no wish to give him more of a hold on me. No, I had been forced to accept that Leek was just the type of man who came over as a slimy sycophant who was always brown-nosing and it wasn't a secret I despised the man. I also never fully trusted him and vowed to keep as much of an eye on him as possible. 

Nick Cutter, well, what could I say about the man? He was a maverick, stubborn and a pain-in-the arse. He was so convinced that he was right that he never doubted himself and that reminded me of myself, at least before my last terrible mission. It thus didn't surprise me that most of our conversations were arguments. He was obviously the type of man who didn't understand that sometimes to save the many, you had to be prepared to lose a few. Unfortunately for me, Cutter did appear to be the best man for the job. 

Stephen Hart, bloody hell, now he was a disaster waiting to happen. I couldn't imagine the professor, who had apparently set his late wife up on a pedestal, would have been happy to learn that his best friend had screwed her and never told him about it, even when she had become missing, presumed dead. I knew how guilt could get people to do stupid and reckless things, but even I considered that Hart had taken his martyrdom complex too far. I had little doubt that, if left unresolved, it would cause his death and all I could hope for was that he didn't take anyone else with him.

Connor Temple. Oh god, someone save me from idealistic idiots like Temple. I could easily believe the boy had never met a conspiracy theory he didn't like. On the more positive side, he had a knack with computers and the ADD was proving to be useful in getting our team to the anomalies earlier and thus saving lives as well as helping to keep the secret safe. I might think Temple was an idiot when it came to most aspects of life, but I had quickly come to the conclusion that he was essential to the project if I wanted to limit the injures and deaths the anomalies caused. 

Abby Maitland, now she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, apart from keeping that damned lizard. She might not want to kill any of the creatures but at least she understood that sometimes it was necessary. She might even be able to rein in the wilder ideas Temple came up with as the boy was certainly smitten with her. 

The new PR woman, one Jenny Lewis, was proving to be good as her job but something was off about her. I wouldn't put it past my boss to put someone in to keep an eye on me. Lorraine had been my first suspect, what with her being ex-MI5, and she was still a strong contender... but Jenny just got all my instincts screaming that there was more to her than met the eye. Cutter's ramblings about her, that she should have been someone else and that we had changed the time line somehow, certainly didn't help. Actually, listening to the mad professor's rants, I would have gladly traded Leek in for this Claudia Brown, especially if I could keep Jenny as well.

As for the captain of the Special Forces assigned to the ARC, one Thomas Ryan, he was a highly competent soldier, well-respected by his men and bloody gorgeous on the eye. Under any other circumstances, I might have become friends with him and, well, I wouldn't have minded being much more to the man as I happily swung both ways. But I was determined to preserve my façade of a bureaucrat and thus I couldn't very well admit to knowing my way around either weapons or warfare. I decided it would be easier for me if I kept my distance from the captain, getting close to him would have led to temptation and to far too many questions that I never wanted to have to answer. 

But somehow, my rag-tag and dysfunctional team worked. Oh, I had little control over them at times when they ignored my orders at will and did exactly what they wanted to – but they did the job and saved lives and, for that, I was thankful.


	2. Thoughts By Her Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester continues to remember recent events at the ARC, from implosion of the team to Christine's death.

I knew it had been an impossible dream to avoid life and death decisions, but I had hoped to preserve the illusion for more than a day. I had known when I took the job that I risked sending my team to their deaths every time I sent them out to an anomaly, but to do nothing would have put civilians at risk and at least my people had some idea about and preparation for whatever they might encounter. But I still hated it and, even more, I hated being stuck back at the ARC, waiting for news of success or failure, for the number of dead and injured, and I couldn't help wonder if this was what my boss hoped. That I'd become so frustrated that I'd go into the field myself and then he'd have me back on active duty, it was that thought that kept me firmly behind my desk, filling out the never-ending paperwork and drinking more coffee than was good for me. 

My situation was certainly not helped by the growing tension within the team, one that could snap at any moment and, knowing my luck, it would occur at the worst possible time. On one side was Cutter, who, thankfully in my opinion, had declared telling the public the truth about the anomalies was not a good idea, that it would cause more harm than good and risked changing the past, or possibly the present and future – I wasn't quite sure. On the other was Hart, who thought everyone should know, that people knowing the truth would save lives. I snorted at Hart's rosy view of the world and wondered if I had ever been that naïve. Oh, I agreed that knowing might save a few people here and there, but I knew people – they were curious or stupid or greedy and revealing the truth would lead to more people dying.

It hadn't been a great surprise to me when the tension finally snapped and set Cutter and Hart against each other. In all honesty, I couldn't even say that Helen being the cause was a surprise, revealing her affair with Stephen just went to prove what a manipulative bitch she was. Hart had been ignored by most of the team and sent into what was basically exile, not a good move in my opinion as it was likely to propel him further in Helen's clutches, but then, why would Cutter consult with me before he made changes to the team? I sighed, what remained of the team had been left near breaking point, pulled by friendships and loyalties, and it really hadn't helped to have a mammoth rampaging on the M25 and now housed at the ARC.

I should have expected worse to come, of course, and I had to watch as my orderly world once more caved around me, my mind once more filled with the cries of the injured and dying. The tensions in the team had distracted me and I had taken my eye off Leek, who had proven to be a traitor and working with Helen. Even worse, when I had been off trying to apprehend him, my team had vanished into thin air. They had taken off against my orders, leaving no word of where they were going or even taking any of the soldiers that had remained at the ARC with them. The bloody amateurs had left me trying to control the anomalies without a bloody field team.

I needed help and I needed it from someone who already knew about the ARC and the anomalies, which meant I needed Hart back on the team. Not that Cutter had actually officially fired him – he hadn't put through the necessary paperwork and so, as far as I was concerned, Hart was still officially employed by the ARC. It had thus been a surprise to be met by Hart's obvious suspicions and his near accusation that I was up to something. I was relieved when Hart had still agreed to deal with the scorpion on the beach, although the man's insistence that he did so alone and would leave if he saw any ARC personnel had all my instincts screaming that something was very wrong and I was sure that the cause was one Helen Cutter. I had to wonder if I had been correct and Hart's exile had driven him further into Helen's clutches. It took me only moments to weigh the risks before I called in Ryan and sent him off to observe Hart and to follow him after he had dealt with the scorpion, with strict orders not to reveal himself unless it was absolutely necessary. 

When all the dust had settled, I knew I hadn't done enough – that once more I had failed in my mission. I had no excuse for not dealing with the situation between Cutter and Hart, and allowing the problem to grow until they couldn't function together and that had blown an almost fatal hole in the ability of the team to do their jobs. It led me to wonder if I was the right person to run the operation. Was I so scared to make the wrong decision, one that resulted in people being killed, that I instead made none? If so, I was a liability to the team and... I took a deep breath and winced as my stitches pulled, regret and what-might-have-beens didn't solve anything. My team deserved my full support and attention and from now on, that is what they'd get.

***

I sat in my office late into the night as I tried to make amends for my lack of leadership by trying to salvage the ARC project while dealing with the fall out from Leek's and Helen's actions. As with everything else over the past few years, it always went back to bloody Helen Cutter and the sooner I could get her on the terrorist list, the better. I didn't care if Cutter would agree or not, although after the bunker I was almost confident that he wouldn't complain too much about her inclusion.

The whole bloody thing had been a disaster – so many deaths and injuries at the ARC, including my own, the deaths on the beach, almost losing Hart when he had entered the cage room in his need to redeem himself in Cutter's eyes. Only the fact that I had sent Ryan to keep an eye on things had led to the safe retrieval of the entire field team and the capture of Leek; Helen, of course, had once more escaped our clutches. 

Leek's information had been useful. Oh, he'd blustered and bluffed and boasted of his connections, but he had still quickly caved when I had got hold of him. I had hoped to conduct the interrogation in private, but Ryan had insisted on being present for my protection, no matter how many times I told him I would be fine. It had been a pity as I had hoped to keep my abilities – my past – secret, but I hadn't let Ryan's presence dissuade me from breaking Leek in my search for the toad's backers. It was just unfortunately that knowing who my enemies were was more important than keeping the good captain in ignorance of my abilities. In the end, Leek broke and the snivelling little man told me everything I wanted to know and, well, it wasn't a surprise that Helen bloody Cutter had approached Leek first – manipulative bitch that she was. 

I had smiled coldly at Leek, seeing the fear in the man's eyes and feeling proud of myself for getting the information from him with minimum damage to him – being as skilled as I was in interrogation, I knew exactly how to cause the most pain without leaving any evidence. Oh, there were a few unavoidable marks on him, but little that he could use against me if he decided to complain about his treatment at my hands. At least, I had felt pride in my work before I turned and met the far-too-knowing eyes of Ryan as the man studied me. I knew I had let slip some of my previous life, enough from the considering look on Ryan's face when added to my familiarity with a machine gun for him to connect the dots and reach a conclusion I would have preferred him not to have made. Not that Ryan said anything to me but I knew I had lost any chance I might ever have had with the man.

In truth, the only good thing to come out of the entire débâcle was that Hart and Cutter had stopped dancing around one another and had finally, I smiled at the memory, literally kissed and made up. Life at the ARC had certainly became a little easier in the aftermath of their revelation and it was soon obvious that being regularly shagged did wonders for the stubborn professor's temperament.

Of course, all good things come to an end and that quiet period of peace at the ARC was merely the calm before the storm, shattered into a thousand pieces by the arrival of Christine back in my life. She had tried to put me on the back foot by summoning me to Whitehall and, well, I was ashamed to admit that it had worked. I hadn't realised I still held a soft spot for her in my heart and she had exploited that weakness ruthlessly. Not that it had helped her in the end when she had met Helen...

I swallowed as I remembered the agonising pain that had ripped through my chest when the future predator had sunk its claws into my chest. I, at least, had possessed a mammoth that had helped me survive the encounter. An advantage Christine hadn't had and the thought of her being torn limb from limb...although I had hoped she had been dead before it had begun to feed. That thought had me swallowing convulsively as bile rose in my throat. 

“Come away, James.”

I only just suppressed my start when Ryan's voice sounded immediately behind me, I must have been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I had not heard his approach. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed that Ryan had managed to not only find me but to sneak so close to me, or pissed off that he felt the need to check up on me. 

I should have known he would find me, would have followed me, after I had confessed what Christine had once meant to me. I smiled slightly as I recalled when his concern for my welfare had begun, not that I had known then that he had been behind it, and had, indeed, been highly suspicious of it. It had begun not long after the Bunker incident when I had buried myself in my work, staying long into the night as I fought to keep the ARC project going, preferably in my own hands. I had returned to my office to find a freshly brewed coffee, exactly the way I liked it, on my desk. I had stared at it for several moments in distrust before moving it to one side to grow cold. The next night I stayed late, I discovered another cup of coffee accompanied by my favourite type of sandwich on my desk, along with a note – Times New Roman font, size 12 – telling me they were perfectly safe to consume and wasn't it time I was at home, sleeping? I admit my eyebrow shot up when I read the note and I had to wonder why someone appeared to be so concerned about my welfare considering how I treated the majority of my staff. 

I didn't like being in the dark about who was apparently being so solicitous of my health or their motives, and so set up surveillance of my own, but my mysterious benefactor proved themselves to be adept enough to avoid my cameras and other surveillance devices. It didn't do my nerves any good and I began to snap at people for no or little reason and that is when the thoughtful gestures stopped. I was relieved, although disappointed, and hoped that life would resume its normal banal existence, well, as mundane as life could be when your job consisted of corralling dinosaurs. 

It had been late one night after a particularly harrowing day when Ryan knocked on my door and entered without waiting for my response. I had quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what the man could want at this time of night and what had gone wrong now. Ryan sighed and shook his head at me, before striding over to save the document I had been working on and switching my computer off. “It is 3am, sir, go home and get some sleep.”

It took me longer than I wanted to admit to realise that Ryan must have been my mysterious benefactor and even now, several months after that realisation, I was still not used to anyone being worried about me because they cared about me, rather than being concerned if I was capable of performing the task they had assigned to me. 

In truth, Ryan was a godsend. He never asked me questions about my past, understanding as only another man who had killed for his country could, that some things were best left unspoken, unacknowledged. He knew that my past haunted me, how could he not when I woke up in his arms, screaming in foreign tongues, covered in sweat and shaking hard enough to rattle my bones. No, Ryan had never pressed for answers I was unwilling to give and I was grateful for that, he was my rock, my safety and the warm, strong arms that held me close after a sleep shattering nightmare, who murmured words of comfort until I fell back asleep once more, who loved me despite who I was. Who I loved more than my own life. 

I was still lost in my musings at the graveside when I felt Ryan wrap his arms around me, pulling me back against his strong chest, and then I heard him swear. “Fuck! You're soaked through.” When I didn't react to him or his comment and just continued to stare down at Christine's empty grave, I felt Ryan's soft lips press against my neck as he nuzzled and kissed and licked in a most distracting way. “Please, James, come back to the car with me. You need to get warm and dry.”

I took a deep breath and silently wished Christine, alive or dead, well and allowed Ryan to pull me away. I dug my heels in after only a few steps and shook Ryan off as I turned back around to give a small bow of respect to Christine, her grave yet another marker of another person I had failed to save. I was only slightly surprised when Ryan snapped off his own salute before he quickly liberated my keys and bundled me into my own passenger seat. 

I sighed as I relaxed against the leather seat and tried not to think how much it would cost me to have the car valeted as I allowed the heater, on full blast, to warm limbs I hadn't realised were cold. I turned my head to say something to Ryan, but I couldn't remember what it was as I watched drops of water run down his face. I licked my lips as I thought of chasing those drops of water and felt my cock twitch at those thoughts. “Warm me up?” 

“Any time.” Ryan's reply was instantaneous and he pulled me into a kiss, his tongue seeking access and then duelling with my own until we were forced to part for need of oxygen. “But how about we go home first.” He waggled his eyebrow at me as he added, “A warm shower and then bed?” 

“Damn right,” I muttered back as I settled further into the seat and wondered how hard it would be to entice Ryan to share the shower. Not to mention whether to shag Ryan in the shower or wait until we were snuggled together in bed. Whichever we decided – or even both – I knew it would be the perfect end to a not so perfect day.


End file.
